Cold Pursuit by Carla Neggers Page A

not worried about my reputation. Where’s Elijah?”
    “You were always relentless, Jo. I actually liked that about you—”
    “But it’s bugging you right now, isn’t it?”
    He gave her a grudging smile. “It’s not helping. Elijah didn’t take to teaching, by the way. One class was enough for him.” The fire made A.J.’s eyes seem darker. “I heard about Alex Bruni. That’s a hard one, Jo. Lauren and I enjoyed having him here. We weren’t friends, but he loved being in Black Falls. I hate the thought that someone could have killed him.”
    “I’m sorry, A.J.”
    “I haven’t seen Nora Asher, if that’s why you’re here.”
    “What about Devin Shay?”
    A short pause. “He’s not here.”
    “What does he do for you? Sweep floors and that sort of thing, or does he get out on the mountain, work on trails—what?”
    “Maintenance.” A.J. obviously didn’t like being asked questions. Jo was undeterred. “As in digging holes and moving big rocks, or something he could turn into a career?”
    “That’s between Devin and me.”
    None of her business, in other words.
    He lifted a burning log with his poker, the fire popping, re-kindled flames rising up. “You should relax, Jo.” He pulled the poker from the fire and set the screen back in place. “Sit here by the fire. Find a good book to read. Have you had lunch? There’s apple pie in the dining room. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. As you can see, we don’t have a crowd.”
    The Whittakers had invited her to lunch, but she wasn’t hungry. She reined in her impatience, reminding herself that, for all intents and purposes, she was the outsider here. “What’s going on, A.J.?”
    “Nothing that involves Ambassador Bruni’s death or concerns the Secret Service.”
    “That you know of,” she said.
    He didn’t respond. If any Cameron had reason to resent her, it was A.J., who was responsible for keeping the lodge competitive, an attractive option to visitors to Vermont. Direct access to the lake would help. She hadn’t gotten so far as to think about selling or leasing her property, let alone broaching the subject with him.
    “Is there anything I should know about your father’s death?” she asked bluntly.
    A.J. gave her a steady look. “It was a tragedy.”
    “I know that, A.J.”
    “Do you, Jo?” He turned back to the fire, staring at the hot, glowing coals. “You must have wished him a rough passing.”
    “No. Not ever. Even at my most brokenhearted and angriest, I understood that he did what any father who cared about a son like Elijah would have done—at least any father with guts.”
    “He cared about you, too,” A.J. said quietly.
    She nodded. “Yes, I know that now. I didn’t at the time. Elijah did well in the army, despite the hardships he faced. And things worked out for me. I’m happy.”
    “Are you?” A.J. gave her a brief glance, then looked back at the fire. “Elijah always wanted to come back to Vermont. Assuming he lived. Not you. You wanted out of Black Falls, Jo, and you got out.”
    “You make living here sound like a prison sentence.”
    “Isn’t that what you thought?”
    “For five minutes at seventeen, maybe. Not anymore.”
    “Elijah didn’t want to hem you in.”
    “Hem me in? A.J., it’s been fifteen years. Elijah and I went our separate ways a long time ago.”
    A.J. moved back from the fire. “I think he always envisioned you being here when he got home. One way or the other.”
    “That’s romantic B.S., and you know it.”
    He grinned. “You’re tough as nails.”
    But she felt Elijah’s mouth on hers, saw the spark of desire in his eyes…a kind of soul-deep longing that she knew was mostly her imagination at work. She warned herself against reading too much—anything—into an impulsive kiss.
    She stiffened, refocused on why she’d come up to the lodge. “Why is Elijah looking for Devin?”
    “Okay, I give up,” A.J. said, not particularly harshly.